Team SINS
by Anarchduke
Summary: A group of dangerous criminals is assembled for a mission that might buy them a second chance.
1. Chapter 1

The night seemed unwilling to give way, struggling against the far off dawn. The promise of day was only in the far distance, a faint splash of indigo in the sky. The darkness clung to the ground of the Beacon Academy, seeming to fight against its fate. A Bullhead peeled away from Beacon's signature clock tower, leaving passengers standing on a balcony high over the school. Four people stood, watching and being watched.

"This is rather unexpected." The speaker reached up with his manacled hands and briefly scratched his nose. His companion stared out over the night shrouded landscape and made sort of a depressed grunt.

Thick steel manacles gripped his hands. Another set grasped his ankles. He looked down at his associate. "Why you think we are here, Nigel?"

"I'm sure we'll find out in due time. This place brings back a few memories though, doesn't it?" Nigel Malish glanced up, looking for a reaction. But the larger man only stared back out over the campus. Nigel smiled grimly and examined the two hunters that had captured them. One was a tall, lanky man who looked fairly tough. His weapon of choice appeared to be some sort of sword combined with a gun. A depressingly boring weapon. The other was a faunus with some sort of canine lineage. She seemed to only have a steel club, little more than a bar of metal really.

Nigel smiled at her, though his face appeared more mocking than reassuring. "What exactly is your semblance? You managed to sneak up on us somehow. That's not an easy task."

The club wielding faunus stared at him with a dead expression for a moment, weighing her reply. "Somnolence."

Nigel nodded, "You can make people go to sleep? That seems rather an ideal semblance for a bounty huntress. Does that mean your nemesis is a strong cup of coffee? It seems a shame now that I abhor the stuff. What about you, Stone? You think a pot of coffee would have protected us?"

The large man turned away from his thoughts on the campus and looked down at his fellow prisoner. "I doubt it. Even if we had stayed awake, her friend over there looks dangerous. It would have been a nasty fight."

Nigel examined the sword wielder for a moment, judging. "No, you'd have killed him."

Stone looked at the man for a moment before looking back out over the darkened landscape. The swordsman was clearly disconcerted by his prisoners lack of worry. "Then its good the lady put us to sleep. I don't like to kill."

Stone's glum pronouncement killed the conversation. The four stood silently, watching the first tendrils of purple and red reach across the sky. The darkness slowly surrendered to the inevitable sun.

Doors opened behind them and a woman's voice broke the silence. "He will see you now."

Nigel grinned sarcastically, "Its showtime, folks."

Professor Ozpin sat at his desk, sipping from a steaming mug. Before him lay several folders, two of which were opened, proof of a recent examination. The pictures in the folders were younger incarnations of the two manacled prisoners sitting before him.

"I'm sure you are wondering why you were brought here, instead of to Vale's prison." Ozpin reached forward and touched the picture on the left. "Stone Dunn, you were a student here. In your third year, you killed two fellow students and fled the campus." Ozpin's hand drifted from the first picture over to the second. "And Nigel Malish. Also a student, and Stone's teammate. You left alongside Mr. Dunn. And you killed three policemen, four guards, and a fully trained hunter that were in pursuit of you."

"You are both wanted criminals and have been on the run for over ten years. You've been surviving as paid muscle for a criminal organization. And now you are here."

Stone shifted uncomfortably in his chair, unwilling to hear his past. Nigel glanced briefly sideways at the big man, then leaned forward, an interested look on his face. "We're a captive audience, Professor. Do go on."

Ozpin's lip moved upward slightly, an acknowledgment of the clever wordplay, "I'm aware of the circumstances surrounding the initial crime. And of Mr. Dunn's personal problem. He's hardly the first person in history with a bad temper. You, Mr. Malish, are a different problem. While I can understand a crime of passion, you murdered eight people in cold blood."

Nigel shrugged, "They shouldn't have gotten in my way."

Behind Ozpin, the blonde woman scowled. "This is a mistake, Professor. These two are unredeemable."

Ozpin turned his head slightly. "Now Glynda, I understand your position. A second chance shouldn't come easily. Still, they have proved quite capable. Perhaps they are even capable of proving themselves worthy of a reprieve."

Ozpin took a sip out of his mug. "I have a problem. One which I think you two will be able to solve. And if you can, I can guarantee you a pardon for your past. A second chance at life, so to speak."

Stone shifted slightly, his bulk making the chair creak. Nigel's eyes widened, betraying a glimmer of excitement. "We'll need our weapons." It was a statement more than a request.

Ozpin nodded. "Yes. You will. I will explain more once the rest of the guests have arrived." The professor waved over the two hunters. "Remove the manacles, if you please. I've already transmitted your payment." The lanky swordsman slid forward and silently collected his gear. Only the dog girl seemed troubled.

"Professor, are you sure? These two are dangerous." She shifted her grip on her steel club nervously.

Ozpin smiled reassuringly. "Of course. Stone isn't angry, and he's a generally decent person." His gray head nodded towards Nigel. "And as far Mr. Malish goes, right now none of us are in his way. You two have been up all night. Feel free to stop by the cafeteria for some breakfast and if you want, there are some guest rooms you can rest in afterward."

The woman seemed unhappy, and the pointy dog's ears on her head drooped in a mute display of emotion. The swordsman placed the heavy manacles in a backpack, then stood. "Lets go, Tonny. Our job is done." He glanced briefly towards the shorter of his two former prisoners and his mouth formed a quirky half-smile. "I could use a good, strong cup of coffee."

The two bounty hunters departed. Ozpin waited until until their footsteps had faded away, then pressed a button on his desk. "Captain, we are ready for you now." The professor reached down and opened a third folder, a picture of an attractive girl with long, dark hair appearing inside. He idly flipped through the pages in front of him. Before him, Stone rubbed his wrists absently, trying to erase the lingering sensation of confinement. Nigel, his face a study of inattention, focused on the professors hands, attempting to absorb any information that became visible.

The doors soon opened and two women walked in. The first was a tall, athletic woman with short red hair, wearing a military uniform with captain's insignia. The other was dressed in a nondescript gray jumpsuit. She appeared to be somewhat plump next to the athletic captain, and her face was disfigured by several large bruises. She had long, black hair reaching down nearly to her waist. At least on the left side of her head. The right side had been completely shaved. The contrast between baldness and hair lent her a deranged appearance. The bruising on her face only served to enhance the look of madness.

Ozpin nodded an acknowledgment. "Captain. Thank you. Why don't you go get some breakfast. I'll take care of the prisoner from here." The red-haired officer saluted, then turned and left.

Ozpin tapped on the picture of her that lay on his desk. "Itari Cry. An unusual name. I understand you were arrested for several counts of attempted murder. You apparently used a car to run over your ex-boyfriend. Then you severely injured the woman with him. And destroyed several buildings in the vicinity. It seems a rather intemperate action."

Nigel turned to look at her. "Cry? What sort of color is that supposed to evoke?"

Itari glanced down at him. Her abused face grimaced in distaste "It doesn't. My mother was blind. Its hard to name someone after a color when you have no idea what a color is." She turned towards Ozpin, her unbattered eye glaring. "The bastard deserved to get a car in the face. That's what you get when you cheat on me."

Ozpin stared back, unphased by her outburst. "You may have cost him the ability to walk. That seems a little excessive, don't you think?"

She grinned, though it was not so much a smile as a baring of teeth. "At least he won't be walking around behind his next girlfriend's back. And that bitch learned her lesson for betraying me."

Ozpin sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Be that as it may. I have a job for you four. One which, if you succeed, will reward you with a pardon for your past offenses. I have the guarantees right here." He patted another folder resting on his desk.

Stone looked up. "Four? There are only three of us." Nigel jabbed an elbow into his side. "What?"

Nigel pointed to a darkened corner. "Four." The other prisoners turned to look.

The shadows covering the corner of the room seemed to waver for a moment, then dissipated. A tall figure leaned against the corner, then moved forward towards Ozpin's desk, sliding gracefully over the floor. He was a cat faunus, and had a slender build typical of his kind. His face had a certain feline cast to it, and vivid green eyes whose vertical pupils gave testimony to his animal heritage.

He bowed with an ostentatious flourish of his hands. "Slade Paris, at your service."

Stone sat up, "Paris? That name seems familiar for some reason."

Nigel responded, "Nigel Paris. There's a price on his head. From a gang in the industrial district, if I recall correctly. A rather large price. What ever did you do?" Nigel's voice faded off into speculation, and Slade's eyes focused on him, then flickered back to Ozpin as the headmaster spoke.

"Gambler. Thief. Confidence man. Scamming organized crime doesn't lend itself to a long lifespan, Mr. Paris. No matter why you may have decided to do so." Ozpin held up his hand to stop a protest before it started.

"I understand you had reasons. Everyone does. All of you here have had problems in your past. All of you are also very competent and dangerous. Or as Ms. Goodwitch said to me earlier, walking disasters waiting to happen. But there are times when good and competent isn't enough. Like now. I have need of a group of dangerously competent walking disasters. Here is my proposition for you all."

The Beacon Academy headmaster rolled out a large map. It was covered in notes, but Ozpin pointed to a rather large blank area on the map far to the southwest of Vale. "This area concerns me. We know far too little of what is happening here. So I sent out a team of hunters specializing in long range reconnaissance to see if they can shed light on a part of our continent. Team SALT was very well trained and very competent. We lost contact with them several weeks ago. I have to assume they are beyond help. But now I have a bigger problem. I need to know what happened to a full team of highly competent hunters, all of whom are used to handling large numbers of the most viscous Grimm on remnant. Competent isn't enough. I need disasters."

Itari waved at the map with her arm, "And you want to send me there, to an area that killed off an entire team of hunters? I'd rather take my chances in front of a military tribunal."

Slade nodded in agreement. "I think I'd be safer dodging the occasional assassin. Besides, we're in a time of peace. Why worry about some place halfway across the continent?"

Glynda stepped forward. Distaste seemed permanently etched into her features. "The problem, Mr. Paris, is you don't seem to realize how fragile our peace really is. Or how close we are to losing it. Things have been happening. We are approaching a dangerous time. As much as I dislike this idea, I agree with Headmaster Ozpin. You four are too dangerous to let go, and too useful to lock up. You are all strong. Very strong. If humans and faunus are going to survive whats coming, we can't afford the luxury of just locking you all up and forgetting about you."

Ozpin stood, "This isn't about locating a missing team of hunters. If you can find and rescue them, then there will be a bonus in it for you all. But this is my offer. Pardons for all of you for any crimes you've committed. I'll get the price on Mr. Paris' head removed. This is a chance for all of you to come out of this clean, your previous transgressions washed away." Ozpin's finger slammed down on to the map, landing on the symbol for Beacon Academy. "There is a very real risk of an imminent threat to Vale's existence. Can you all go through the rest of your lives with the knowledge that you could have protected all of these lives but didn't? A silence descended on the room. Five sets of eyes rested on the map, to the city marked by Ozpin's pointing finger, contemplating his words.

Then Stone stood up, his bulk looming over the seated professor. "I'll do it. Growing up, I wanted to be a hunter, after all. To protect people against the monsters of the world. Maybe its time I did."

Nigel stood up. "Can't let you go alone, I guess. I'm in." He looked over at the girl with the beaten face. The bruising was already receding. He thought, _She's got a strong aura_. He cleared his throat softly, "What about you, Itari Cry? Do you want to go see what's there with us, or wait in prison for it to come here instead?"

Itari turned towards him, testing him with her eyes. She point at a brace on his leg. "What's wrong with your foot?"

Nigel looked down, then back up. His eyes glittered with a hidden emotion. It wasn't a pleasant look. "I've got a club foot; it's a birth defect. I wear the prosthetic to so I can move normally. Why are you asking?" Stone tuned to regard Nigel. Then he stepped back, prudently removing himself from the line of fire.

Itari's attention had already wandered back to the map. She looked up at Ozpin and shrugged. "Eh, why not. Sign me up."

Slade watched. It seemed clear that Itari was oblivious to anything that didn't concern her. This fellow Nigel Malish should have concerned her, though. Slade saw the barely concealed ugliness recede back behind the crippled man's eyes, leaving only a look of fierce intelligence. Nigel's eyes moved to over to lock him in a stare. Slade immediately inclined his head and shifted his eyes away. It seemed a wise thing to do. Being part cat, Slade instinctively avoided a staring contest. Among his own kind, it would have been a challenge. And he didn't feel like challenging someone with that much hatred hidden inside him. Not all monsters were Grimm, after all.

Slade stepped forward and made an expansive gesture with is hands. "Since you three agreed, I guess I'll go ahead with it as well. Dodging assassins is less fun than it sounds." Then Slade blinked his cat's eyes as a thought occurred to him. "You managed to get all four of us to agree to what looks like a suicide mission. You're quite a manipulator, Professor Ozpin. And that's a complement, coming from a professional conman."

Glynda Goodwitch opened her mouth, her eyes reflecting an outrage at this accusation. But before she could speak, Ozpin stood and took a drink out of his now cooled beverage. "I am that, Mr. Paris. I'm the Headmaster of Beacon Academy. My job is to manipulate people. I manipulate children and mold them. I use words to shape them into fine hunters and huntresses so they will help to protect humanity. And I am proud of that."

"Now if you all will excuse me, I have duties here I must attend to. Ms Goodwitch will show you to your weapons and equipment and provide you with any supplies you think you'll need. Good luck, all of you." Ozpin took a last sip from his mug and set it down on the desk. "One last thing. Be very careful. You are now one of my teams, whatever you were before. And I hate to lose people. I've already lost too many."


	2. Chapter 2

Stone turned his head towards Nigel as Ozpin walked out. "Did he seem agitated to you?" Stone nudged his head in the door.

"I'd say so. I guess he has some problem students this year." Nigel grinned slightly. "I doubt they were as bad as us, though."

"Now." Glenda Goodwitch uttered the word as if she were clearing her throat to get attention. "You four follow me. I believe we have recovered most if not all of your personal belongings. Follow me, please." She started to walk towards the door. Itari shrugged and turned to follow her. Slade seemed to hesitate, as if to make a comment, then jammed his finger into the pockets of his jacket and followed.

Stone heaved himself out of the chair and said, "Let's go. She doesn't seem in much mood to wait." About halfway to the door he looked back to see Nigel leaned over the desk, flipping through pages in one of the folders still on the desk. "What are you doing?"

"Just looking for some details." Nigel flipped the folder closed and started walking, his foot brace clanking slightly against the floor. Stone watched Nigel as short man passed by, then followed himself.

The team moved down a set of stairs to a storage room. Inside were four piles of equipment, collected on a large table. Around the table were shelves with an odd assortment of items. Weapons, armor, an assortment of dust tubes and an array of uncut crystals of varying types. Glynda turned to regard the team behind her. "Here are your things, and some additional equipment and supplies you might find useful. Transportation will arrive upstairs at the balcony in about fifteen minutes. Please be on time."

Glynda brushed past the team and walked back the way they had come. Itari glanced around the room, acquainting herself with its contents. "This isn't their first time to throw a party, I don't think."

Nigel slanted his eyes towards her. Then he moved forward to the table and petted what looked to be an oddly shaped shotgun. He picked up the weapon and a harness, then put it one, the pistol grip sticking out over his right shoulder. Nigel's next item was a chest plate with multiple compartment set inside, each containing a substantial amount of dust. He flipped it over then opened the dust compartments. Then Nigel walked over retrieve a few tubes of different dust to replenish his supplies.

Slade moved to his own pile then looked over at the contraption Nigel had left open. Slade looked over at Nigel "Why so much black?"

Nigel stopped in front of his chest plate and carefully begin to transfer an inky black dust into one of the openings in his plate. While still carefully watching the dust flow, he replied. "Its for my main offensive ability. I use a lot of it with my semblance."

Slade picked up a long bladed knife and examined it. It had guard that enclosed the fist. Then he started whipping the weapon through a practiced motion, and nodded in satisfaction as he held a pistol with a short bayonet. Slade removed the magazine from the pistol to check its contents, then slammed it back in. A quick flip and the pistol reformed itself into a long bladed knife, the pistol's barrel folding back into a guard. Then he slipped the knife into a sheath on his leg. Then Slade picked up a bandolier full of small disks. "A gravity attack? Do you hold them immobile for that guy's stick?" Slade jerked a thumb towards Stone, who was checking out a tetsubo. The massive staff sized club had a long handle and short spike protrusions on the business end of the weapon.

Nigel looked at Slade, his eyebrow raised. "I suppose I could do that. But I prefer to use it other ways." Nigel locked his chest plate in place. Then he gestured towards the puffy disks on the tall faunus' bandolier. "What are those for?" Slade glanced down at his check then lifted his head. "Bombs. They are designed to stick in place for a short period of time then explode."

Itari had donned a military style vest and holstered a large caliber pistol. In her hands, she held what looked to be a mace, although it had a handle longer than most. She glanced over at the disks, then frowned briefly. "Are they pure kinetic or do you have some with different dust effects?"

"They have a bit of black to hold them in place and they trigger when all of the black is expended. The main propellant is pure white kinetic dust, of course. But I can attach a supplemental charge of varying types depending on what I want to accomplish. If you pay me to destroy someone's building, for example, I'd use red dust to guarantee a fire."

Stone looked down at his new cat-eyed teammate. "Those will be useful. Can you control the delay?"

"Yes. From about ten seconds to about two minutes. But they aren't completely precise." Slade was leaning over looking at the bottom of one of the shelves. "This will be useful." Slade pulled out a military issue backpack, then started stuffing assorted items into it, seemingly at random.

Itari regarded him with some amusement. "Do you really think you are going to need all of that?" Slade ignored the faint tinge of mockery that accompanied the question.

"We will be a long way from safety, and there won't be anyone to back us up. I'm going to take enough gear to last me the entire walk back, if needed."

"Walking back had better not be necessary," Nigel commented as he attached what appeared to be a belt with a small grappling hook on it. "I really hate having to walk." Stone chuckled, then walked out the door, his massive weapon over one shoulder and a bulging pack over the other.

He looked back at the rest of his new team. "Let's go. I don't like to be late." Then he stepped out and followed Goodwitch's long vanished footsteps. The rest filed through the door and retraced their path back to the balcony they had arrived at less than an hour earlier. They stepped out to see the edge of the sun peeking over the horizon, its first rays lighting up the cloudy sky. Gold and red clashed against orange and blue and violet. The interplay of colors seemed especially vibrant against the gray of the clouds. In the distance a bullhead transport vehicle approached, only a few minutes out.

Glynda Goodwitch watched impatiently as the four assembled before her. "I want to wish you good luck. And I hope Professor Ozpin hasn't misplaced his faith in the four of you." She expanded her scroll and touched something on it which she studied for a brief moment. "Stone, Itari, Nigel, and Slade. You will be referred to as team SINS. Which is highly appropriate for you. The designated leader," Glynda hesitated and touched her scroll to advance the text. "Is Stone Dunn."

Itari narrowed her eyes as she stared at Goodwitch's pronouncement. "Why him and not another one of us?"

Glynda looked over at the woman, measuring her question, "He accepted first." Itari blinked in surprise, then nodded back. "And you are next because team SNIS doesn't sound very good." Itari laughed, then readjusted the grip on her mace.

The whine of the approaching aircraft made further conversation nearly impossible. Finally it became stationary, hovering next to the balcony. A door opened on the side and a ramp extended, gently touching the polished stone. Glynda nodded in salute then moved past the newly formed team. She paused next to Nigel, and said something into his ear. He glanced over, then nodded and replied, though their words were erased by the engine's sounds. Glynda then handed over a device with a shoulder strap, which Nigel then slipped over his own head.

The four entered the ship. The pilot stood next his console, examining the four. He wore a dark blue coat and had the hilts of two swords peeking into view. His left hand stuck out from the sleeve, clearly an artificial replacement. "My name's Farin Greyson, and I'll be your pilot today. I already have our destination co-ordinates, and we'll be headed out directly. I don't want to know why I am taking you as far away from civilization as possible and I think you are all either fools or insane for going there. Possibly both. Now strap in, because this ride will be long and if we are extremely lucky, boring."

Nigel pointed to the pilots artificial hand, "I like him better already." Then he glanced back and forth between Slade's garish gold and red duster and the pilot's dark blue one. "Is a long coat an official piece of clothing for cat faunus?"

Slade looked at Nigel the only movement on his eyes were his eyes blinking slowly. "Yes. All cat faunus have to wear them. It's the law."

Nigel chuckled and found a seat. Stone sat down on the opposite side of the passenger compartment and buckled his seat belt, then grumbled, "Lets get this over with. I hate flying."

Itari sat down next to Stone and buckled, then watched as Slade took off his brightly colored jacket and flipped it inside out. The gold jacket was now a black one with red trim. And yet it still somehow managed to be gaudy looking. She shook her head.

Slade sat down and pulled a belt over his chest to secure himself, then said. "I think we're ready. Farin, we're in your hands now. I hope they're capable."

Farin made a slight, mocking bow then made a half smile. "Of course they are capable. I'm a pilot."

Nigel looked up at the smug sounding faunus. "Yes, but are you any good?"

Farin Greyson made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "All pilots say they are the best. All the rest of them are wrong. Lets get going." The faunus turned and sat in one smooth motion. Then he reached over and flicked a series of switches. The ramp lifted and retracted, then the door slid shut, killing most of the whine from the bullhead's engines. Then Farin gracefully slid the airship away from the balcony and turned away. The team felt themselves forced to lean over towards the back of the ship. The rapid acceleration was corroborated by the sight of Beacon's clock tower fading quickly behind them through one of the view ports. Soon they were high up and traveling along the coast.

Itari sighed. "And now I'm hungry. I wish I'd had a chance to eat."

Stone ruffled through his pack and pulled up a gray plastic package. "I've got lots of military rations. Enough for several weeks at least." He held out the pouch towards her.

"I hate rations." She looked distastefully at the bulky gray bag in his hand. The dreary gray color of the wrapping seemed to foretell the taste of its contents. Stone kept holding it out towards her, a half-smile on his face. She read the plain black lettering on its surface. "Chicken. Ugh. Well, at it isn't fish." Itari plucked the bag from Stone's hand and gave it one more disgusted look before tearing it open.

Stone's half-smile turned into a full grin "Yeah, the fish based ones are really special. We might even be able to chase grimm away with them." Then his smile faded away as he looked out a view port over his shoulder. "And we might be glad if that were true."

The bullhead soared on through the skies as the coast beneath its belly. After a steady couple of hours, Greyson turned his head back towards his passengers, "Okay. I'm going to leave the coast now we should be approaching the destination in about thirty minutes. This is where we hope it stays boring, but just in case, make sure you are strapped in. If we get a Nevermore on our tail, things could get a bit bumpy."

The aircraft dipped down and to the left heading inland and away from the relatively safe coast. The airship followed a river inward aiming roughly for its source. In the distance, some low lying mountains broke the skyline. Tall hills would have been more accurate. The bullhead descended beneath the clouds, and the vibrant green of a rainforest came into focus below. The wide river meandered south and small hills occasionally broke through the treetops.

The team was each looking out of a different view port, taking in the terrain. Nigel turned towards the front of the craft and half-shouted, "You had better be able to pick us back up after all this is over. I really, really don't want to walk back."

Farin laughed. "I'll be here. Just remember it will take at least 4 hours after you contact me with that communicator you are wearing. So don't wait until its too late."

Stone interrupted the exchange. "Hey, what are those things? They look like bugs." Farin back over his left shoulder trying to see what his passenger was referring to.

"Aw, Shit. We got stingers." The plane peeled sharply to the right, just as a loud crack resounded through the cabin. The pilot seemed to glow a bit as his aura surrounded him. He jerked the ship to the side just before a sharp barb appeared suddenly in the hull of the aircraft, its needle like tip just a foot away from Itari's head. The point started to ooze out a foul-smelling, greenish substance.

Slade sat up, "What the hell are stingers?"

The bullhead made a couple of twists and dropped down in the air, and Farin yelled back, "Grimm, nasty ones. You know how scared people tend to be of wasps?"

Slade opened his cat's eyes, the vertical pupil narrowing in alarm. "Yeah."

The bullhead seemed to jump upwards and turn, responding to Farin's frantic yet precise control of the vehicle. "Stingers are all of man's fears about wasps made real." A clang sounded as something bounced off the aircraft's skin. "And they really hate airships." Then Farin's eyes widened and he exclaimed in surprise. "You guys are freaking maniacs!"

Nigel stood up and pulled the shotgun from its holster on his back. He twisted it around and it unfolded, a short stock extending from it and the barrel flipped over and extended. "I'm going to clear some of them off us so we can land. Stone, catch." Nigel slipped the head of the grappling hook out form its resting spot on his belt. He tossed the head towards the large man, who caught it and clipped it to a ring near the door, then Stone sat back down. Nigel slung his rifle over his shoulder with its strap, then secured it with a small ring that hung from his chest plate. Then he grinned wildly and looked back at his team, his eyes almost glowing with excitement. "This is going to be the most fun I've had in weeks." Then the small man grabbed the level on the door and pulled it aside. The air roared through the cabin and mixed with the screaming of the engines as they pulled the aircraft through its desperate gyrations in the air. Nigel's body started to glow a deep violet color and a pair of silvery tentacles seemed to grow out of his torso, like a second set of arms. One twisted itself around the same ring his grappling hook was attached to. Then he stepped out of the aircraft and vanished from sight.


	3. Chapter 3

The small airship bucked and twisted in the air as it dodged the armor piercing barbs shot by the enraged stingers. Nigel stood on top of the airplane, one ghostly tentacle reaching down to the open hatch he had just left. The other split in half, and suddenly three tentacles reached out from his body. The second reached around to the other side of the embattled airship, anchoring him in place. And the third curved up from behind his back and over his head, the tip of it moving in sync with Nigel's gaze as he examined his enemies.

The stingers were huge, easily six feet long. And despite their monstrous similarity to wasps, they were capable of keeping up with the high speed maneuvers of the armored transport. Twenty three. Maybe twenty four. It was hard to get an accurate count with the things darting this way and that trying to get to the ship as the gifted pilot made his vehicle turn and twist in ways that were very close to impossible.

Nigel focused on the ones trailing the aircraft first, as they would be the easiest targets. He pulled the large scope of his rifle and watched as it rotated to the side, popping up instead a tactical scope with very little zooming capability. Much better for close to mid-range shooting. The insane wind factors would be challenge enough. He pulled the rifle up to his shoulder, aiming as carefully as he could. The aircraft bobbed up, twisted right, dipped down, then just for a moment, it went level.

A loud crack split the air as Nigel pulled the trigger, and a streaking red charge fled from the barrel of his rifle and struck a stinger on the front of its abdomen. A Ball of fire enveloped it, and it twisted into a flaming ball and started to fall. The other stingers surrounding it ignored their falling comrade, too focused on the sound of the plane. Nigel focused on the next and waited for a second or two of steadiness. His rifle barked out another shot, then another.

Two more stingers fell back to earth, dissolving into shadowy flakes. This wasn't enough. Nigel looked over, noticed several stingers stuck into the engines. If they were hit enough times, or if one of the stingers got lucky, those engines could fail. And then things would be bad.

Inside the plane, Itari was bent over, vomiting her nasty tasting military rations all over the deck of the airship. Even in her sickened state, she wondered that the rations actually tasted better this time. Its like they had taken the best chefs in the world and tortured them until they were hate filled shells of their former selves. And then had them create the rations. Even eating campfire cooked desert rats wasn't as bad.

Slade was sitting across from her, trying to keep his shoes out of her way. There was always one on an airplane. To distract himself, he shouted at the pilot. "How's it going?"

Farin was busy twisting the ship about in the sky, but managed to yell back. "Not good. Your insane friend on the roof has taken down three of them, but I can't keep this up forever. The drain on my aura is immense." Slade nodded, then unbuckled himself and started moving towards the open hatch, always keeping one hand clenched firmly against the overhead rail. He finally inched his way over to the opening, and glanced out. Six foot long insectoid horrors flew all around the beleaguered transport. Slade could hear the crack of a rifle above him, its sound echoing through the armored hull. One of the grimm farther behind erupted in flames, curling up into a ball is it fell. There were plenty to take its place.

Slade pulled his knife and flipped it through its motions until he held a bayonet tipped pistol in his hand, then aimed carefully at one of the nearer stingers. His pistol roared twice, the sound magnified by the enclosed space of the airships passenger compartment. The first shot missed but the second hit the grimm directly in the face, and large shards of ice sprouted out from its head in all directions, as sharp as a razor and deadly cold. The flying terror didn't even have the chance to fall before its shape shattered into a million small flecks of shadow.

Nigel heard the faint explosion from below, but he was far too preoccupied to care. A few of the stingers had taken notice of him and were focusing their fire on him instead of the plane. A needle sharp barb slapped into the surface of the airship, and stuck quivering only inches from his foot.

"Hog's balls!" Nigel shouted at the stinger who had almost gotten him, then snapped off a couple of shots, finally clipping it in a foreleg. A fireball engulfed part of its body, and the flames assaulted its wings, causing it to falter, then fall as it frantically tried to use its now useless wing. He laughed and yelled at the sky. "This isn't working! Time for phase two!"

Nigel flipped his powerful rifle collapsing and rotating the barrel and rapidly switching it into the form of a pistol grip shotgun, then touched a button on his chest-plate. He had to get all of the grimm focused on getting to him instead of attacking the airplane. He needed them close. That was the easy part.

Nigel closed his eyes and reached deep inside himself. He knew he was insane. He knew the madness inside of him better than any man ever knew a lover. He caressed it with is mind. The rage, the hatred, the fear, and the despair. All of those horrible feelings he held deep inside his soul. Each was a monster in and of itself, captured and caged by his mind and his will. He reflected on those cages, the careful suppression of emotion he had built over the years. Then he let them free.

Grimm feed on negative emotion, it makes them strong. Fear and hatred and despair were like drugs and candy and the finest wine to them. It was irresistible.

Inside the bullhead transport vehicle, Farin Greyson was running out of energy. His aura was dimming; he had been using his clairvoyance to see just far enough into the future to predict the attacks of the swarm of terrors menacing his ship and his passengers. Then his mind's eye saw the man on top of his ship shimmer. Evil seemed to radiate out of him like a dark cloud, and every single stinger immediately surged forward, single-minded in their hunger. It almost broke his concentration. It was so much to take in all at once. But he also saw a possibility. With all of the stingers focusing their deadly attention on the man-shaped thing standing on his ship, he could get them all to one side of him. And that meant he could kill them.

Farin's hands danced along the controls of the transport deftly keeping himself alive until his eyes could verify what his mind had shown him. And suddenly, there it was. Every single stinger he could see, both in plain sight of the cockpit and through the rear and side view displays went almost rigid, all of their attention focused at the very top of his battered craft. Then they seemed to leap forward as if pushed ahead by an invisible spring. At that moment Farin pushed forward and dove straight towards the ground.

Nigel felt so damned alive. He wanted to kill everything. "Every freaking thing in the whole damned world! I'll kill everything!" And twenty or thirty things were coming to him at high speed, eager to meet him. The aircraft he was anchored to started to dive straight for the ground. It was like death was everywhere. "This is glorious. I'll kill all of you." He started to laugh as the stingers closed in. It was a high-pitched, hysterical, mocking laugh. It was like listening to the purest form of madness.

Nigel's third tentacle, which had hovered over his head, protecting him from harm stretched outward, splitting into two massive ghostly ropes. A deep violet glow surrounded him, and he pressed a button on his chest. Black dust flowed out into the two twitching tentacles. Filling them with gravitational energy. It was a trick he'd learned a long time ago. He'd used it to kill his own teacher. The black dust interacted with his ghostly tentacles, collapsing them into themselves. The round tentacles became impossibly flat, their edges impossibly sharp. Glowing black blades formed at the far ends of his ghostly ropes, eager to bring forth blood and pain.

Nigel started whipping his dark razors back and forth, cutting through one grimm after another. His shotgun took another in the face as it got close, the force of the blast disintegrating its head. The headless body tumbled away, replaced by two more monsters eager to drink of his hatred. His fear. His absolute rage. "Kill! Everything!" The monsters swarmed at him, and three more went down. Nigel's shotgun evaporated the thorax of another. Then another. Then one of the monsters shot its barbed weapon, shooting forward and impaling his leg to the hull of the aircraft, another caught the edge of his arm. Nigel did not care.

Another dead, then another. His shotgun was empty, but he didn't even bother to try and reload it. Most of the stingers had fallen behind the aircraft, its ever increasing speed outmatching their wings. One was close enough, though. Nigel thrust a black razor through it, pinning it to the top of the ship. Then he began to bash it in the face with his shotgun. "I'll kill you, you bastard. I will murder you and all of you. I will end you!" Ichor coated the end of his gun and his second black razor stabbed the grimm repeatedly. He reveled in its futile attempts to escape.

The bullhead is a versatile and capable aircraft, meant for a wide array of jobs. It doesn't have the massive size of its larger cousins, nor does it have the speed and maneuverability of military fighter craft. What it can do, though, is take a lot of punishment. It was built to hum along at a stead pace, able to carry heavy loads and able to absorb or just survive immense punishment. It was an ugly, bull-headed airship and Farin loved it as only a pilot could.

He felt the groans and rumbles of his ship through his fingers as he pushed it far past the speeds intended by its creators. He felt the screams of the metal through his feet and through his back as he dove past the sensible limits of experience. His whole being was in tune with his ship, a perfect synthesis of man and machine. It was a feeling only a few pilots in the world ever truly experience. And most die from it. Farin growled out loud. "But not me!"

Faster he went, his mind surging out ahead of him, finding the exact moment in time when the speed became too great to recover from. "I'm the best!"

Closer. The last possible second was rushing towards him faster than he had ever experience.

"I'm the best!" Future and present were rushing together, death and life charging at full speed.

"Freaking pilot" He could feel time itself convulse as his vision and his sight fought inside of him.

"In this entire" Closer, faster, his heart was screaming in his chest.

"Freaking!" His breath rushed in and out of his mouth, unnoticed.

"World!" Farin pulled back, using all of his muscles to force himself up and away from the earth. His ship gave off a tortured cry, the forces assaulting the armored frame almost unbearable. A crack raced down one of the windows in the cock pit, partially surrendering to the strain.

The craft streaked over the ridge of a forested hill, missing the tops of the trees by less space than Farin wanted to think about. He shuddered, his baby shuddered as they struggled to raise their head. Shrieks and creaks and groans and shivered flowed through the airship's frame. He was so glad that he had such good a mechanic on his team. That same mechanic was going to be infuriated at what he was doing to it right now. But it was the next step that would really piss Farin's mechanic off. The engines were probably going to need replacement. If they didn't immediately fail and kill everyone.

Normally, Farin Greyson would have carefully transitioned between forward flight and hover mode. He would have gently teased the engines downward to keep from unbalancing them. A careful engine reconfiguration could reduce the need for costly engine maintenance. And that meant less money going to the bullhead and more money going to the bank. Farin was fond of his bank account. So he almost wept at having to use the emergency hover switch. Then the cat faunus reached down and casually triggered the emergency hover switch.

The engines emitted a high pitched, tortured cry that no one aboard had ever heard an airship engine make. This is because it was very close to the high pitched scream an engine made just as it exploded. The bull head stopped pushing itself through the air and started pushing itself upward. The turbulence that resulted almost flipped the craft over. But without the forward thrust, Farin was able to spin the entire plane around, looking like a drunken turtle spinning through the sky. Mashing on the somewhat unresponsive maneuvering thrusters, Farin now had his ship flying backward at a higher speed through the air than a bullhead was supposed to travel when it was pointed the right way. The twisted sounds of the aircraft's frame seemed to echo back the insanity of Nigel's laugh.

But now Farin could aim his machine guns. The bullhead's machine guns were more designed for ground support than air to air combat, but a good pilot could aim them like he was pointing a handgun. A deafening roar arose from the front of the airship, massive dust powered spouting forth faster than the ear could register each shot. Even in the day, it was a brightly lit rainbow beam of death. And Farin brushed it through every grimm he saw.

Fire, and ice and lighting and darkness and water and half a dozen other forms of energy all tore through the remaining stingers, blowing them into evaporating chunks of shadow. As the last one died, Farin whispered hoarsely to his precious airship. "We've never been this good before." Then he started to weep, tears of strain and relief rolling down his face as he carefully spun his machine back to a more normal orientation. And a good idea considering the craft was still traveling faster than the recommended airspeed limit.

The Cat pilot saw a flat topped hill ahead, a perfect landing spot. He would need to perform some emergency repairs himself before he dared travel all the way back to Vale. He gently brought the bullhead to the ground, the feet of the ship barely registering any impact at all. Then he slowly slowed the engines until they were off.

The sudden silence was a shock to Greyson's passengers. Farin turned around and saw Slade, as white as any sheet; eyes dilated in fear. One hand had clawed through the leather of a seat, the other was locked in a death grip on the overhead handrail. Then he saw Itari. She was slumped over, almost out of her harness. She looked bereft of life.

Then he saw Stone as the large man stood up. He looked entirely too relaxed for the hell they had just been through.

Stone stretched then looked at the emotionally drained wreck that was his pilot. "You might just be one of the most insane people I have ever met." Then he leaned over and clapped a hand on the pilot's shoulder and grinned. "And you might actually be the best freaking pilot in the whole freaking world." He threw his thumb behind him and said, "She's not dead, by the way. She passed out in panic when she though we were going to hit."

Farin shook his head a bit to clear his thoughts, then said, "Your teammate. The one outside. There's something wrong with him. I don't know. There's something... bad." Stone's face fell into an expression of grief, one that his face seemed well acquainted with.

"Yeah. I know." Then he raised his voice to make sure everyone heard him clearly. "I'm going outside to deal with Nigel. The rest of you stay in here. Don't let him see you." Stone paused at the doorway to unfasten Nigel's tether from the hatchway. "If you don't hear from me in 10 minutes, leave. And don't let him see you." And with that, Stone walked out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun reached out to Stone through gaps in the tops of the trees at the edge of the hilltop clearing. It would have been a peaceful and refreshing scene. But behind him, Stone could hear giggling and the cries of something in pain. He turned and looked up at the top of the abused airship. Nigel was there, and so was a single stinger. Nigel had wrapped it up in one of his ghostly tentacles and was stabbing and cutting it with another dust infused one. It was struggling feebly against its bonds. It may have been a grimm, but Stone still felt sorry for it.

Nigel ripped its other wing off. He'd gone off the deep end for sure this time. Stone decided to wait. He didn't want to engage his only friend while the sociopath still had gravity dust active. It wouldn't do to have his throat cut open. Nigel cut off two of its remaining legs. Then another. Finally the poor thing died, its cumulative wounds too much for it. Or maybe it was tired of fighting something scarier than it was. The insectoid corpse shimmered, then vanished into shards of shadow. At least the tentacle had reformed into its normal shape, drained of the black dust that had deformed it. It was only somewhat deadly now.

Stone shouted, "Have you got it out of your system yet?" Nigel looked over at him, and his two tentacles shot forward with incredible speed, a translucent blur. Stone barely had enough time to activate his semblance. The impact that should have knocked him down and shattered his ribs instead was channeled harmlessly down his body and into the ground beneath his feet. The transferred force blew a chunk of ground the size of a body up into the air, showering Stone with a hail made of dirt.

Nigel leapt off the airship. Or at least he tried to. Two of the yard-long barbs shot by the stingers had gone through one of his legs. The pain of the impaled barbs was incredible, and jumping forward had pulled them all the way through. Nigel stumbled awkwardly instead, then crumpled and fell, slamming his head against the frame of the transport as he tumbled down to the ground.

Stone hopped forward to catch him. His semblance absorbed and passed the impact energy of Nigel's body harmlessly into the ground. Nigel's eyes had rolled back into his head. Stone sat, cradling him gently.

"He's a real piece of work." Stone turned to see Slade leaning casually against the open door. "How are you two even friends?"

Stone looked down at the unconscious Nigel, then smiled sadly, "We grew up together. Nigel's had a really bad life. It is kind of amazing that he's even a bit sane. He's very strong."

Slade glanced at his leader and the man held tenderly in his arms, then cocked his head to the side with a curious expression. "Are you two... you know... together?"

Stone looked up at the cat faunus, measuring his intent. "No, Nigel's not like that. Besides, that would be kind of weird. We're more like brothers than anything else." Then he shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

"You seemed to be very tender with someone who just tried to punch holes in your chest." Then Slade grinned. But I was watching from the corner of Ozpin's office during our interview. And you seemed a bit flustered. So I was kind of wondering about it."

Stone chuckled, "Well, Professor Ozpin is a handsome man. Very distinguished looking. I remember thinking the same thing about him back when I was a student at Beacon." Stone carefully laid Nigel's body against the ground, then stood and stretched. "We just need to let Nigel be still for a while. He'll be healed up in an hour or so."

Slade looked down at the bloody mess of a man on the ground. "He's going to need longer than that."

Stone shook his head. "Not Nigel. As I said, he's very strong. His aura has always been scary, and he's done things over the years to strengthen it many times over."

Slade blinked his eyes in surprise. "How did he do that? I know you can develop your aura, but the amount of increase is minimal."

"You have to kill yourself." Stone shrugged. "That's what Nigel said anyways. You can force your aura to grow by expending all of it. You completely exhaust your life force to the point of death. If you come back, your aura becomes a tiny bit stronger than before. Nigel has done it dozens of times"

Slade took a half a step away from the sleeping man. "That's kind of insane. Why would he risk his life that way?"

The big man smiled fondly down at his friend. "Because he hates being weak. Hates it more than death."

Slade shook his head. "But he's not weak. Absolutely bonkers, sure. Scary as hell, yes. But I wouldn't call him weak."

Stone raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Part of him knows that. The sane part. But as for the rest of him..." He reached into a pocket on his arm and pulled out a small cigar and a lighter, then lit it. Stone pulled the smoke deep into his mouth then exhaled it, letting the stress of the morning out with the smoke. "I don't know if he'll ever be stronger than his past. Maybe he'll tell you about it. But it's not my story to tell." He drew another lungful of smoke into his mouth. "Lets get unloaded. Our mission hasn't even started yet. And I have the feeling this is going to be a tough one."

Slade nodded and ducked back inside the ship. Itari was just coming around, her skin still showing a faint greenish tinge from her extended bout of airsickness. Farin Greyson was in his seat, methodically checking different instrument panels and shaking his head. His sharp faunus ears picked up Slade approaching from behind and he turned his head. "I don't know how in dust's name we managed, but she didn't manage to lose a single important system. I'm going to have to be really careful on the way back though."

Slade nodded, "Well, we're going to unload our supplies, if you could lower the back loading door." Farin nodded and reached over to pull a lever down. The ship started to whine as hydraulic arms lowered the rear door. "And the next time you decide to scare the hell out of me with your flying, please warn a cat first. We're only supposed to have nine lives after all. I think you used up a couple of mine just with your flying."

Farin grinned broadly back at his fellow cat faunus. "I didn't tell you to take off your harness. That's all on you." Then his grin faded a bit. "Hey. Your team mate. The one that went outside. There's something wrong with him. Be careful about that one. Humans are iffy anyways, but that one gives me the creeps."

Slade's grin withered. "Yeah. I think I agree. But what we are out here for, I think its better if he is on my side. Scary can be useful. And I don't think he's got a problem with faunus."

Farin shrugged his shoulders, "Just looking out for a fellow cat. Well, I spoke my piece. As I said, if you choose to take off your harness, that's on you."

Farin turned back to his instrument panels. Slade turned around and saw Itari drinking from a canteen. A witty comment about her looking like something the cat dragged in popped into his head, but he prudently stayed quiet and went to the back to unload their gear. Slade lugged packs off the plane and chuckled to himself "If a woman is looking less than her best, its wiser not to comment on it. Especially when that woman has an assault rifle and a prickly temper."

"What was that?" Itari walked out the back of the aircraft, carrying her pack in one hand and holding her canteen in the other.

Slade looked up at her. "Nothing, just thinking of something my father told me once. Our expedition hasn't exactly started out very auspiciously."

Itari screwed up her face into an expression of distaste. "You can say that again. I hate flying. The sounds of the engines gives me a headache every time. And I get airsick too."

Slade checked out the assault rifle he'd acquired in Beacon's equipment room, making sure it was operational. "It was something of a surprise." His face had a carefully neutral expression.

Itari turned and spat out a mouthful of water in an effort to get the bad taste out of her mouth. "Well, motion sickness is a lot more common than people let on." Then she point a thumb behind her. "What do you think about our team mates? The small one seems a little bit... unstable."

Slade scratched behind his ear for a moment, then narrowed his eyes in thought. "I think we both should step carefully around him. Around both of them. But they are both strong. And as unstable as he is, the man did probably keep us all alive."

"Maybe so." Itari laughed briefly and patted her chestplate. "I'm kind of glad I brought my body armor though. I'm thinking it might come in handy." She looked down at the cat faunus, then added. "I think there's another set in the plane if you want it."

Slade shook his head. "Too bulky. It'd only slow me down. Besides, you'd have to see me to shoot me." Slade grinned and activated his semblance. With a thought, he twisted the light around his body. His body seemed to vanish from sight, leaving only his bright green cat eyes and his grin. A faint rippling appeared around the edge of where his body was, the only evidence that it was there at all. Then he stopped concentrating and his body reappeared as quickly as it had vanished.

Itari clapped her hands a few times in appreciation. "Your semblance is invisibility? How very useful."

Slade shook his head. "Light manipulation, actually. I can also completely darken an area or cause a wisps of light to appear above my head to illuminate the area if needed. But wrapping light around my body is definitely most useful. Its not perfect, though. When I move you can see a faint rippling where my body is."

Itari pointed at his face. "What about your eyes and your grin?"

"If I wrap the light around my eyes, I can't see." Slade's smile grew further. "And the grin is just kind of for fun."

Itari cocked her head to the side and moved her eyes over him. It was a sort of casual looking examination. "You'd be best on point as a scout. How good are you at not being heard?"

Slade's grin shifted on his face, going from an open smile that bespoke humor to a harder edged smile. The sort of smile a cat gives to a mouse before he pounces. "I make my living as an assassin, among other things. If I don't want you to hear me, you won't."

Itari nodded, her eyes hard. "Good, our team needs a forward scout. How long can you maintain your invisibility?"

Slade turned his eyes up, considering the question. "Maybe an hour or two. I've never pushed myself to find out. I like to keep most of my aura in reserve to help in combat if needed. Or to escape. Any jackass can sneak up on someone and kill them. A professional is someone who can survive the aftermath."

Slade watched as Itari effortlessly lifted a crate that looked as if it weighed more than he did. It was surprising. He realized she was big, since he was nearly six feet and he still had to angle his head to meet her eyes. But he had been wrong about her. She appeared to be sort of plump, or at least very curvy. Slade prided himself on being able to size up a person, of knowing in advance how hard it would be to fight them. Watching her in action, he realized that fighting her hand to hand would be a death sentence. There was no fat on her body; All her curves were made of hard, well-toned muscle. He should have guessed; She was after all a former member of the Vacuo Army's elite desert fighters. If they earned their freedom after this mission, perhaps he could be her manager in the professional combat arenas. He had a feeling it could be very lucrative.

Itari had pulled out a very large looking gun and was examining it. A light machine gun of some sort, well suited for a gunner to provide cover and pour out large amounts of damage. Behind him, he heard two sets of footsteps and raised his hand, waving to the two approaching him from behind.

Stone stopped for a moment and watched Slade watching Itari. Nigel pushed past them and retrieved his pack and pushed it onto his back, then picked up Stone's heavier pack and carried it back. Stone cleared his throat to attract attention. "Are we all ready to go? The sooner we start, the sooner we'll be done with this mess."

The four exited the rear of the battered aircraft and walked around to see Farin walking around, performing a visual inspection of his bullhead. He seemed to be talking to himself and shaking his head.

Farin hear them approach and turned. "Leaving?"

Stone nodded. "Might as well get it over with."

The faunus pilot examined each of them. "Who has the radio?"

Nigel wiggled his hand at the pilot. "I do. And please keep an ear out. I really don't want to have to walk all the way back to Beacon."

Farin snorted. "Sure thing. I don't imagine it would be a very pleasant stroll anyway." He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. "Here. Take this, it might help you locate the other team."

Nigel plucked the paper from his fingers, examining it carefully. "Radio frequency?"

The pilot nodded. "That was the agreed channel the previous team was going to use to contact me for a pickup. If you get within a mile or so, you should be able to use your communicator to home in on theirs. Assuming it is still in one piece."

Nigel folded the paper and tucked it into one of the pockets on his vest. Then he gave Farin a twisted smile. "I hope we find them. I want that bonus."

The four watched Farin hop into his airship and engage the engines. The craft rose smoothly into the air, hovering above them, then watched it shudder and whine as the abused engines transitioned from hovering mode into flight mode. Itari winced at the twisted, discordant sounds coming from the engines. "I hope it holds together long enough for him to get back. That machine sounds like its about to fall out of the sky."

Stone pulled out a laminated map to show the team. "We're here, and the last known location of team SALT's is over here." Stone tapped a valley about twenty kilometers away. "I suggest we head over there to start our search. We might be able to find something to track them by."

Itari looked at the map, then turned to regard the terrain from the top of their hill. "We should approach it from the south. That way we can go around that other hill ahead of us. Also, our primary objective is to the south of their last known location, so we might pick up their trail without having to go all the way to their starting spot."

Stone tapped the map with his other hand. "Good thinking. Itari, you were military, right? What rank were you?"

Itari straightened up unconsciously. "I am a senior gun sergeant for the 3rd Desert Recon Company." Her memories reminded her of her disgraced status and she deflated a bit. "Was, anyway."

Nigel's eyes narrowed a bit. "You are experienced with small unit tactics and leadership? Why weren't you chosen as our leader?"

Itari looked over at the small man. "I asked Glynda Goodwitch that very same thing, if you remember. She said that Stone was our leader because he was the first to agree. And probably because team ISNS isn't very catchy." The former gun sargeant stroked the barrel of her machine gun. "I think it was a good call. He's probably the most trustworthy one, from Ozpin's point of view at least."

Nigel's eyes flickered over to briefly consider his friend. "It was a smart call. Stone is as good a man as you will ever meet. Unless he loses his temper." Nigel spun around and started heading south looking for a way down the hill.

Stone watched his friend walk off. "I guess I should warn you about me. I can berserk in a fight, lose track of who I'm supposed to be fighting. I've worked on learning to control it, but the risk is always there." He shifted the massive two handed club over to his other shoulder. "If you are next to me in a fight. If it looks like I'm going to turn on you, lay down and play dead. When I'm in a berserk state I won't generally attack things that aren't moving."

Itari regarded him for a moment. Stone was one of the biggest men she'd ever met. She was an inch over six feet and he made her feel petite in comparison. Six and a half feet tall men are uncommon, but Stone was built like a brick wall and looked like a professional weight lifter. She felt like was conversing with a building. "How do you learn to control your temper? I've never had much luck controlling mine."

As the team started down the hill, Stone thought about the exercises Nigel had come up with. "Meditation. Nigel came up with the idea, in fact. I started out by meditating for a couple of hours a day. Now I can enter a kind of meditative state at any time I want to. Even during combat. And its done wonders for my skills. I can't really describe what it's like, but maintaining a trance while fighting has made me far more effective than I ever was before."

Slade's green eyes sparkled with interest. "I've heard of that sort of thing. There are some unarmed combat schools that teach you to fight while in a trance. If you are in the right frame of mind, you can't be fooled by feints or surprises, and you react naturally and without any hesitation. You can actually become faster and stronger while in a battle trance."

Stone nodded. "That's pretty much true. And there's one other thing meditation does for you. Being in a meditative state helps you regenerate aura faster."

Itari pondered the idea. "So, if you fight while in your meditation thingy, you can make use of your aura more during the combat?"

"Exactly. And there have been a few times... Well, that isn't important right now. Nigel wanted me to warn you two of my problem, so I am. If I start to look like a crazed maniac, its best to get away from me."

Slade laughed. "That sounds like a good idea to me. I'll keep it in mind."

The four marched south and west, making good time. Itari suggested letting Slade take the lead since his superior faunus senses would be the best at detecting potential threats. Then she rearranged the rest of their marching order. All disguised as friendly suggestions. After all, that was what a gun sergeant did. Take over the details of a team while making it appear that the commander was in charge. By the time they'd made it to the end of the southward valley, their so-called team was closer to being a team in fact.


	5. Chapter 5

The cheerful yellow of the sun dimmed to an angry red, and shadows reached out, leaping over each other in an attempt to darken the entirety of the forest floor. Nigel was sweating from effort. He'd been using a black razor for hours now, his gravity dust infused telekinetic tentacle chopping a path through the steadily increasing density of the forest. He was not happy.

"What in Grimm's piss is wrong with this forest?" A few more quick slices cut apart the trunk of a tree thicker around than three of him. "How did the trees get so thick?"

Stone trudged along behind Nigel, carrying his, Nigel's and Slade's packs. It would have been a fairly impressive display of raw strength anywhere, a man carrying 200 pounds of equipment isn't seen everyday. He had gone past impressive several hours ago. Carrying 200 pounds of equipment for over 20 miles had begun to enter the realm of the impossible. The strain was definitely showing; Stone could barely manage a graceless stumble.

Behind him, Itari was a study in vigilance, her eyes and the barrel of her machine gun constantly scanning the forest around them. She moved closer to the heavily burdened leader "Dunn. We need to regroup. There is something wrong here. This forest isn't right."

Nigel looked back at his two teammate, even as he sliced a hole through the forest in front of him. "You feel it too? I keep waiting for the hammer to drop on us." He giggled. It was a somewhat disturbing sound coming from a thirty year old man with several razor sharp tentacles appearing from behind him. "I bet it will be fun."

Stone narrowed his eyes at Nigel's back, then he looked over at Itari. "I think you're right. Let's stop here and rest. When trouble finds us, I'd rather it be when we aren't worn out."

Stone dropped two of the heavy packs and sighed with relief. "Nigel. Start carving out a clearing for us. If something does happen, I'd like us to have some fighting room."

As Nigel started murdering trees in widening circle around them, Stone and Itari took turns setting up a camp for the night. The other held the machine gun and scanned the trees for whatever might have found them.

The only warning they had that Slade had returned from scouting ahead was a brief distortion in the rapidly darkening forest in front of them. Two green eyes floated towards Stone as he swung the machine gun over to cover the apparition. Then the empty air seemed to shatter outward, Slade's body abruptly reappearing in the newly created clearing. He was carrying some sort of small deer over his shoulders. "I figured we'd all be happy not to eat rations tonight, so I bagged us some dinner."

Itari's eyes widened in appreciation. "That is the best idea anyone has had all day. I can still taste the rations we ate at lunch."

Slade flashed a grin at her, then moved to the corner of the clearing. He pulled his long knife and began methodically butchering the carcass. It was obvious to everyone watching that he'd had a lot of experience. His knife-work was perfect. Before long the four were happily devouring the better part of a deer. Stone finished the last part of a venison steak large enough to feed three and sighed with contentment. Then he looked over at Slade, watching as the faunus precisely sliced pieces of meat and ate them with his knife. He definitely had more than his fair share of cat traits. "So, Slade. You were scouting ahead of us. How much farther did you go what did you see?"

Slade plucked up a long strip of venison with the tip of his knife and dropped it neatly into his mouth. Itari wondered if he was actually purring. He certainly looked like he should be. "The forest thins out some about three or four miles up. There is also a nice sized stream with good, clean water about mile beyond that. South of us the forest is pretty much impenetrable. I've never seen a forest like this before." His aura of contentment faded somewhat. "This forest isn't natural. There's something... off about it."

Stone nodded. "We all feel it. The question it, what does it mean?"

Nigel laughed. "It means something is going to try and eat us before too long. What else could it mean?" The small man leaned back and chewed happily on a strip of particularly well cooked meat. Stone sighed. If Nigel was inexplicably happy, it generally meant bad things. Often, it meant Nigel was the bad thing. This time though...

"We need to keep watch." Stone pulled out his scroll, the collapsable device held a wealth of information. "Sunrise should be in about 9 hours. I'd volunteer to take the first shift. But I honestly don't think I'll be able to stay awake. So I'll take the fourth one. Nigel, you cover the first three hours, then have Itari take over. That way Slade will be able to cover the deepest part of the night. His faunus eyes will be invaluable in the dark." Slade tossed his wooden plate into the fire. Well, it wasn't so much a plate as a finely cut disk made from one of the trees Nigel had slaughtered earlier.

"Somehow I knew I'd get stuck there." Slade rolled out his blankets and vainly tried to find a piece of ground that didn't have uncomfortable lumps. "This crap right here is why I moved to the city. Nature sucks. I want a hotel with room service."

Itari rolled out her own blankets and pulled a small metal box out her pack. She pressed a button on it and it expanded to a taller box with some dials and a small tube out the side. "Nigel, do you have any spare fire and ice dust on you? I forgot to pack some when we left."

Nigel wandered over to look at the mysterious box. "What do you have there?"

Itari happily patted her little box on its top. "I bought this right before I was arrested. Fortunately I had put it into my pack. Its a dust powered espresso machine, very portable."

Stone bent over to look at the machine more closely, then gazed at Itari with an odd expression on his face. "Itari, if I were straight I'd kiss you. I still might."

Slade looked adoringly at the small metal box. "I might do the same. This is one of the greatest inventions I've ever seen."

Nigel looked at the box, then at Slade. "Uh, its nice, but I don't think you can compare it to the signal towers or scrolls. All it does is make coffee."

"Not coffee. Espresso." Slade drew himself up as if offended. "I'll grant you that the signal towers are impressive, but they can't make a hot espresso first thing in the morning, now can they?"

Nigel shrugged. "Coffee is practical enough I suppose, though it smells like poop. I've got caffeine tablets that do the same thing. And I've enhanced the functionality of my caffeine tablets with dust."

Slade stared blank-faced at Nigel while trying to digest this information. "You.. enhanced caffeine … with dust?" His body gave a little shudder. "I can't imagine that would be safe."

Nigel lifted his shoulders again, "Its a little less safe than just caffeine, but the effects hit your system much faster. Far more practical."

Itari cocked her head and examined Nigel, her face a study in confusion. "Why would you bother? Its just coffee."

"That is the sort of attitude that gets in the way of progress. There are an unlimited ways we can incorporate dust into every day life to make it better. I've come up with dozens of ways to improve the human body itself using dust. Sure there are some side effects, but..."

"But some of those side effects include exploding heads." Stone interjected.

"That was just the one time. I resolved the issue with the next subject." Nigel shook his head, seemingly unaware that his team mates' faces somehow appeared expressionless and shocked at the same time. "He should have told me his semblance was fire-based in the first place. Even I can't fix stupid."

Slade shook his head slightly, as if to shake away whatever imagery had lodged itself in his imagination. "How did you ever get someone to volunteer for something so insa... so uncertain?"

Nigel gave a half grin, "He was part of a bounty hunter team that tried to take us down. I gave him and the other survivor a choice of dying on the spot or submitting to a single experiment. He lied about his semblance, thought it might help him. It didn't. But the other one fell all over herself to tell me the truth. And I even let her go like I promised. I keep my word."

Itari scratched her head , absorbing the information. "What was the experiment for, anyways?"

"I was infusing fire dust into their eyes to see if I could give someone the ability to see heat emanations." Nigel smiled a little fondly at the memory of his success.

"Did it work?" Slade leaned forward, absentmindedly pulling on the lobe of his right ear.

"Oh, yes. In fact, once I determined that it had worked, I did it to myself. I can see heat sources even in complete darkness, but only out to about 20 or 30 meters. Still, its very handy."

Slade's eyes narrowed in thought. "That's a scary thought. The battle at Fort Castle could have gone a completely different way if human had been able to see faunus' heat emanations."

Nigel looked upward, thinking. "Maybe, but probably not. General Lagune was an arrogant piece of human waste, and he was also a fool. He might have been able to reduce the magnitude of his loss, but being able to see heat sources is not nearly as effective as having faunus night vision. Also, his tactics were terribly naive; he'd have lost even during the day. Now, if I'd have been running that army, I'd have still attacked at night, but I would have used massive numbers of flares to light up the battlefield. It would have given my troops something to see with and I could have effectively blinded the Faunus at the same time. With the proper coordination, it would have been a slaughter." Nigel chuckled humorously. "But then, I'd have probably been on the faunus' side."

Slade cocked his head and looked at him for a moment. Then, resisting the urge to find out what unsavory reason was behind Nigel's preference, he sauntered off to relieve himself behind a tree.

The darkness nestled down among the camp, pressing down on them as they laid down to sleep. As Slade closed his eyes, he saw Nigel extend a few of the translucent tentacles and raise himself up to a nearby tree, rifle in hand. He closed his eyes and the last thought before sleep claimed him was _Those tentacle_ _s_ _really freak_ _the crap out of me_ _._

The harsh staccato of a light machine gun thundered out over the clearing. Slade's eyes jerked open and he was half way to standing up before his brain acknowledge he was no longer asleep. He glanced to around to try and orient himself. Itari had her machine gun in hand and was spraying rounds back and forth. Slade stared at her for a half a second then turned to see what she was firing at. His brain, still half asleep, allowed him to view the grotesque forms surging forward from behind the cover of the tangled forest. Monstrous, massive spiders some were relatively small, about the size of a dog. Mixed in, though, were massive eight legged horrors, gargantuan spiders whose bodies alone were two meters long.

It was then that Slade's brain suddenly ran screaming from the sleep it had been half holding on to, and Slade's voice joined in to scream alongside his panicked brain. Without consciously being aware of it, his right hand had smoothly drawn his pistol and was shooting at the small spiders that were scooting out ahead of the wave of monstrosities.

One particularly large, spider shaped grimm leapt through the air straight at him. The bony armor encompassing the massive creature was thick. Too thick for his pistol. Slade's mind was screaming at him to move, but he just froze in place. Then, he heard the massive explosion behind him and the hideous spider hurling towards him just exploded. Chunks of black flesh and bits of bone white armor covered him from head to toe, then started to evaporate. The black smoke billowed up around his body, as the detonated bits and pieces of arachnid grimm vanished from sight.

Another ear shattering explosion, Slade turned to see the source. Stone had converted his tetsubo into a massive cannon, and was loading a shell nearly as thick as a man's wrist into the breech.

"Son of a BITCH!" Nigel shouted on the other side of their clearing, his voice coming in clearly despite the cacophony that was Itari's machine gun. He had four long tentacles sweeping back and fourth, their ends collapsed into nearly perfect blades by the power of gravity dust. There was another horde of spiders attacking from his side, and his semblance grown appendages were slicing them up nearly as quickly as they charged. Nearly. Nigel danced back and forth dodging attacks from giant spiders. Interspersed among the many slashing attacks he made with his tentacles, his shotgun blasted away the heads of the spiders that got close enough to be a danger.

The buzzsaw sounds of Itari's machine gun stopped. Slade took his eyes off his own targets to see her tossing the gun to the ground beside her. She pulled out her mace with her right hand and with her left she drew a compact machine pistol. She glanced over at him, then flicked her eyes over to see how Nigel was doing. He wasn't doing well. Spiders were crawling over the dissapating bodies of their peers leaping closer and closer to him.

Nigel had spawned two more of his tentacles. The first four were flattened by grav dust and were doing a fine job of dicing spider parts, but the other two had been injected with fire, and weaved around his body defensively. So far he'd been effective at protecting himself against the uncountable numbers of giant spiders, slashing and burning them as they approached and firing blasts into whatever happened to be in front of him with his shot gun.

Stone jumped into view, swinging his massive tetsubo. The giant war club was easily as tall as a person, and the teams leader was not just hitting spiders, he was launching the eight legged freaks up into the air, and they were vanishing into wisps of black smoke as they flew off. It was like some horrific, nightmarish fireworks display. Then Stone jumped at one of the larger monsters and swung his club upward into the giant things body. At the exact moment, a massive explosion triggered from the bombfilled backpack he wore, and a brief glow around his body revealed that he was using his semblance to pass all the kinetic force from the explosion though his bode, into his tetsubo, and outward into the giant spider.

The massive beasts body blew apart, ichor spraying upward like water from a decorative fountain. Eight massive legs spun off into the air and the spider's giant head went straight up into the air and landed on a smaller spider that was attempted to bit Stone's foot from behind. The decapitated spider head bit down reflexively, killing its own comrade before bubbling to dark mist.

Stone jumped back swing his giant club back and forth defensively. "This isn't working! We need to do something else!"

Slade looked out and saw huge numbers, many more than they had killed already, pouring out through the gaps in the forest. "More incoming! If you can give me a few minutes, I might be able to do something!"

Itari shook her head while swinging her pick and mace into the wave of spiders that were crashing into her. "No time! I'll do it, but I'll need help when this is done!" The tall woman jumped backwards and fired the trigger on her pick, pushing her back farther. While she was in the air, the head of her mace unfolded like a flower, the insides pushing out to look like a steel mesh. The handle fell off, connected by a braided cable. Itari dropped her pick and grabbed the microphone handle and lifted it to her mouth. "Cover your ears guys, this is going to hurt!" Then she pointed the mace turned loudspeaker out towards the spiders, opened her mouth, and screamed.

Of course, none of them managed to cover their ears first. Upon reflection, Slade felt the sound was somewhat more unpleasant than hearing 10 thousand different types of animals all tortured to death at the same time. With a few ship's foghorns thrown in for good measure.

The pain was incredible. Slade fell to his knees, his hands clamping desperately around his sensitive faunus ears. A trickle of blood ran out between his fingers and slid down the back of his hand. He found himself moaning in time with the scream, his own torture matching the torturous sounds of Itari's Cry.

Stone was on the ground, curled up into a fetal position, his ears were bleeding, and he looked like a giant baby crying for its mother. His nose was bleeding as well, and red covered the bottom half of his face. The sight of him lying on the ground covered in blood and screaming was going to be material for at least a few nightmares. Slade looked over at Nigel Malish, and found an even more nightmarish site. Nigel had blood streaming from his ears and from his nose, but he wasn't curled up or even phased by the pain he must be experiencing. He almost seemed to enjoy the pain. It was most inhuman sight. Then Slade looked over at the forest. He had never liked spiders. In fact, he hated them. And he'd always loathed grimm. But he never, ever thought in his whole life that he might feel sorry for them. They were receiving the full force of Itari's weapon enhanced screech.

A whole army's worth of eight legged monsters were trapped in place, unable to move. Their bodies were shivering and vibrating, a weird harmony of the scream that was rolling over them. The trees as well were vibrating. Shaking. Even the very air was shimmering from the force of the cry.

And then Itari Cry got louder. The pain was intense; Slade thought he might pass out from it. The leaves started to shake from the trees, then small branches flew off into the night air, propelled by the havoc of the sounds washing over the them. The spiders started simply to explode. The smaller, weaker ones first. Then larger, then the largest. Mercifully, her scream ended and Itari collapsed unconscious to the ground. Stone was already unconscious from the pain, but then he had been farther in front and had heard the scream more clearly. Slade staggered to his feet, feeling dizzy from the damage to his ear canals. Blood was pouring from his nose and one of his eyes couldn't focus properly.

There wasn't a forest anymore. Trees, shrubs, spiders had all splintered apart. There was nothing ahead of him but a twisted, shredded pile of wood for several hundred meters. From beneath the pile of wood, the black smoke of dead grimm wafted upward, dark haze rising upwards through the night sky, reaching out to the shattered moon that hung above.

Nigel walked over, blood covering his nose and mouth like some bizarre mask. He was saying something, but of course there was no sound except for the painful throb of the abused blood vessels that. Slade shook his head, trying to convey the message that he couldn't hear. That was a mistake. Pain shot through his skull, and he clasped his hands over his head in a vain attempt to stop the headache. His head felt like someone had driven a dozen nails through his skull, each one larger and more jagged than the last.

Nigel motioned to their two unconscious teammates, then pointed to their campsite. He watched Slade nod in agreement, still clutching his head. They walked over to Itari, who had collapsed onto her knees and, although completely unconscious, had managed not to fall over, but was in an awkward kneeling pose, her head lolling over to the right side.

Nigel grabbed her under her arms and lifted. She was a woman, true, but she was a six foot tall woman who had a lot of muscle on her frame. And her armor. Slades normally pale complexion turned a deep pink from the effort of lifting her, and his headache was throbbing with the memory of Itari's amplified scream. It was all he could do to not pass out. Nigel lifted her by the knees, and looked even worse that Slade himself felt. But slowly they managed to stagger towards the camp where they not too gently dropped her onto her bedroll.

Then Nigel went back for Stone. Slade looked over at his bedroll with such a longing in his eyes, lovers would have been made jealous. Then he sighed and followed Nigel back while thinking to himself. _It was odd. The whole situation was so strange. I don't even like humans, and here I am among two humans and whatever the hell Nigel was. I mean, he's technically human, but whatever is inside of him, that isn't so human._ Nigel sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair. _Itari is_ _exactly_ _the sort of girl my father warned me never to get involved with. He was a wise man, for all his faults._ _I can hear him saying as much. 'Never dip your wick in crazy, son. No matter how good she looks, it will end up making you wish you hadn't'_ Slade's mouth curved up on one side. _She is good looking though, and tall. Kind makes me want to tests my dad's advice._ _Its not as if I don't understand her reasoning._ _If someone cheated on me, I'd kill them too._

Nigel got behind Stone's massive back, and looking down at the giant human's body, made a facial expression that could be used in a picture book to explain the word displeasure. But he lifted him up, his face turning purple with the effort. Slade lifted his knees with a grunt and an extra spike of pain from his throbbing headache and they staggered like drunks towards Stone's bedroll. _Stone is a different sort. Anger issues, sure._ _I've known_ _enough badger faunus to understand battle rage. But other than that, Stone might be the one human_ _I could really get to trust. Except for his weird attachment to the freaking sociopath Nigel, that is._ He looked at Nigel, staggering beneath the weight of his friend's body, and wondered why the two were together at all. Stone seemed like an essentially decent person, while Nigel was definitely not decent. And insane to boot.

After what seemed like an hour, they finally hauled Stone's 125 kilogram body to his bedroll. With a sign of relief he dropped Stone's legs and started to stagger off. Then he stopped. Nigel, instead of dropping him, gently lowered his torso down to the ground. And gently laid his head down. And covered him with a blanket.

Nigel looked up and saw Slade watching him, the cat man's head cocked to one side. His expression spoke volumes about confusion. Nigel scowled back at him. Slade hurriedly raised his hands and waved them slightly while shaking his head no.

Slade mouthed "Sorry", then grimaced and grabbed the sides of his head with his hands. Shaking his head was bad. His headache suddenly intensified from the motion, and the pain jumped from the level of nails being hammered into his head to a brand new and very unwelcome level of agony. Slade's vision blurred, and his legs started discussing just how many more seconds it would be before they just gave up. He felt a hand on his arm, steadying him and in his blurry vision he made out Nigel standing right before him, examining his face with intense interest. Then he lifted up a pale blue tablet and held it in front of Slade's face before pushing it inside the incoherent assassin's mouth. Slade would have refused, but didn't really have the energy to do more than let his sociopathic teammate push an unknown drug inside of him. The tablet seemed to shatter into a wet dust, and a wave of cold flowed out from his tongue up into his brain, then down his spine into all the rest of his body. The icy was a different sort of pain, but it washed away the pain in his head, and the throbbing in his ears. And his eyes.

Slade stood for a moment, transfixed by the icy coldness washing away his pain. He wasn't even aware of the aching in his feet or legs, so intense had been his headache. It was a nice, normal, gentle pain. The sudden onslaught of relief was harder to withstand than the pain. _What a weird revelation. I can stand pain but can't handle the lack of it. I am taking medication offered to me by a lunatic who I think dogs are smelly and I hate them and I.._ Slade staggered again, and would have collapsed if Nigel's hand hadn't been there to support him. He felt Nigel's hand pulling him, forcing him to walk. _I want to rest, why are there dogs making me walk. I can't even think I think._ Slade mind crumbled into nonsense.

Nigels dog hand was yanking him. Jerking him. Making him walk. Then it was pushing him down. He was falling to hell. Hell was soft, like a bedroll. Nigel's bloodshot eyes rolled back in his head and his unconscious body fell the rest of the way to the ground. Nigel looked around at the three of them, then reached up and pulled rolled up moss out of his ears. Congealed blood coated the inner half. _Well, thank the Maidens I've been stuffing my ears with this crap. Didn't prevent damage but at least saved my hearing._ He looked around at his three teammates. They were used up. _What the hell kind of power level does Itari have, anyway? Her semblance isn't really sound based, even though it kind of was at the same time._ He walked over and collected the various fallen weapons, staggering over Stone's stupidly heavy tetsubo. _Well, crap. Those guys aren't the only ones that are used up. I'm about five minutes from sleep myself. But I can't sleep, so I'm going to have to do bad things to myself_. Nigel grimaced. He knew the pill he was about to put in his mouth. It was painful, and worse, it tasted like ass. The aftertaste was even worse. _But I have to stay awake._ He glanced down at Stone and his expression softened. Someone has to be to protect ... the team.

Nigel pulled out a small bottle filled with dark brown pills that had a swirl of yellow and red mixed in. The primary medicine was powdered espresso beans. Each tablet was about the same as 2 cups of coffee. Not a big deal. The yellow and red swirls were compounds made from lightning and fire dust. They were a big deal. A big, painful deal that would keep him awake for hours. That is, if the compounds they helped to distribute through his body didn't cause him to have a heart attack or a stroke. And it tasted like shit. Nigel frowned in disgust at the pill, then thought, Oh well, life is a journey. Then he threw the pill into his own mouth.

Nigel bent over, gagging and holding his mouth with his hand, preventing the shattered bits of pill and vomit from escaping the mouth he had decided to torture. Sheer willpower allowed him to force his mouth to clench and swallow the mostly digested venison, bile, coffee, and dust. _I've experienced worse. I can do this_. He swallowed again, and his stomach started cursing at him. Another swallow, and his mouth was finally empty. _Maybe not much worse though._

Amazing. Vomit actually managed to improve the taste. _I wish there were a way to inject this. Its a shame that his only test with an inject-able formula ended up killing the subject. And showered his remains all over that warehouse._ The aftertaste made Nigel seriously consider trying another serious of experiments. But that would be difficult. Stone had agreed reluctantly to the use of people who had attacked him, with the agreement that if attackers agreed to a single experiment Nigel would let them live, rather than killing them out of hand. Stone would absolutely refuse random abductions. Well, he's the one with morals. Its not his fault that I don't have them.

Nigel groaned and clutched his stomach, falling to his knees. The fire and lightning were shooting outward from his stomach and pain followed like an arrow following a target. The lightning dust started activating, and Nigel fell to the ground, convulsing as the electricity triggered all his muscles. He felt his buttocks clench and unclench and heard as well as felt his intestines clench. _Well, these clothes were dirty anyways. At least I have another pair._ More pain and convulsions interrupted his train of thought, and the smell and feel of his own waste inside his pants only made life worse.

A minute or two later, The twitching subsided. Finally. _I hate this stuff so,_ _so, so_ _much. Its a shame that it is so useful._ Nigel got up and cleaned himself and changed his clothes and drawers, then went over and checked Itari's machine gun. It had run empty rather than jam, as he had feared. He pulled out the container and filled it from a jar of ice dust he retrieved from his pack. Reloaded the weapon and then just sat with his back to the fire, watching and waiting.

Dawn broke, the sun shining down brightly over the destroyed section of forest. Little creatures were hopping around, finding an unexpected wealth of insects and other small creatures among the catastrophic debris. Nigel yawned, and his body let him know in no uncertain terms that the drugs he had forced into his body were about to run their course. His body also let him know that as soon as that happened, sleep would fall upon him like a politician on a whore.

Stone was the first up, despite being the one most heavily affected by Itari's semblance. Nigel waved at him wearily and mimed handing the machine gun over. Stone jumped up, looking as rested and as healthy as if he'd spent a week at a Schnee vacation resort. _That man's recuperative powers piss me off. He was probably close to death last night._

Stone walked up, "You look like crap." He smiled helpfully and plucked the machine gun from Nigel's trembling arms.

"I had to take the shit pill to stay awake." Stone grimaced. The shit pill was what made him appreciate the delicate flavors of military rations. At least by comparison. "You know I hate when you take those things. They are dangerous."

Nigel stumbled up to a standing position and rubbed his exhausted face. "I didn't have much of a choice. You and Itari collapsed, and Slade and I were barely able to drag you to your beds. And Slade might have died. I think he'd gotten a cranial bleed from our delicate songbird."

Stone looked over at the still unconscious faunus and frowned in concern. "Are you sure? You think he'll be okay?"

Nigel shrugged. "I gave him an icepirin. He should be fine now. I'm going to go to sleep. Oh, and do you think we could stop by that river Slade mentioned last night? I shat myself after taking that damned pill, so I've got to wash my other set of clothes."

Stone shrugged. "Not a problem. Go. Get some sleep. You've definitely earned it. And when you wake up I'll have some decent food to help you forget the taste that is no doubt still in your mouth."

Nigel grinned. "Now that sounds like a really, really good idea." He walked over to his bedroll and sat down, then fished out a pale blue tablet that was the twin of the one he had fed Slade. "Good night Stone." Then he popped the pill into his mouth and bit down on it.

Stone looked down upon Nigel's face as the icy rush calmed his body. The man's eyes closed, and a peaceful expression shined out. No anger, or bitterness. Just peace. _I wish he could feel that way all the time._ Stone's face drooped as sadness welled up inside him. _Poor_ _Nigel. If only..._

No matter how many times "if only" crossed his mind, Stone knew that Nigel may never get back to being that hopeful, happy child genius. The only if only that mattered didn't happen. _But I'll watch over him, and I'll make sure there aren't any more "if onlies". One day, he'll get better. Some day, maybe._

Stone turned away from the sleeping form of his childhood friend and looked to see what he could prepare for breakfast.


End file.
